


The Greatest Punishment

by Cr0wdc0ntr01



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe does not take it well, F/M, Sad Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Season 3 Finale, So neither does Lucifer, what happens next
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:58:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cr0wdc0ntr01/pseuds/Cr0wdc0ntr01
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to be like this.The thought wouldn’t seem to leave Lucifer as he sat alone in his empty club. He was sat at the bar, in one hand he held a bottle of fine scotch while in the other he rested his weary head.“I need some time,” She had said. “Just- I need time.”And so he’d given her time.My take on what might have happened post season 3 reveal.





	The Greatest Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! As advertised, this is my take on season 3 reveal. It's late, and open ended, but it's something I wrote while feeling a bit darker than usual. I don't think it will have any further chapters since I'm no longer in that head space, but who knows?   
> Let me know what you think!

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The thought wouldn’t seem to leave Lucifer as he sat alone in his empty club. He was sat at the bar, in one hand he held a bottle of fine scotch while in the other he rested his weary head. The bars surface had a scattering of all kinds of empty bottles. At this point, Lucifer wasn’t picky as to which alcoholic liquid quenched his pain.

 _“I need some time,”_ She had said. _“Just- I need time.”_

And so he’d given her time. A month of it.

A full month in which he’d remained absent from every aspect of her life, be it social or work. He’d had Ella and even Dan stop by during that time. Each of them asking pointed questions. Wondering what had changed. Why he no longer showed up at crime scenes, invited or not. Why he was no longer to be seen around Chloe.

Lucifer had evaded their questions with as many non-answers as he could get away with. When that didn’t work, he’d simply bid them to leave him be. Some part of him felt bad for forsaking his other mortal friends, especially when they had done him no wrong. Another, admittedly larger, part of him couldn’t help but wonder whether it was better he distance himself now. After all, they – just like the Detective – were sure to leave him when they learnt the truth.

They always did.

Lucifer had been a fool to think this time would be any different. Chloe may have been a miracle, but really, what did that matter? Did he truly think a miracle could do what no other being in creation could? Did he _really_ think that a single human could succeed where even his Father could not?

Because if there was one truth to the universe it was that no one – _no one_ – loved the Devil.

Not his family.

Not his Father.

Certainly not humanity.

He’d been so _foolish_. How could any mortal even stand to be near him when they’d been taught for hundreds of years that he was the root of all evil, the father of sin and lies? The answer, of course, was that they could not.

Lucifer let out a humourless chuckle. He moved the bottle of fine liquor to his lips and let it burn a path down his throat until there was no more left. The empty bottle was ruthlessly discarded next to the others as he reached behind the bar for another. Getting past an angelic constitution had never been a picnic, but with his stubborn wings still latched onto his back the feat became near impossible. Not that Lucifer would give up trying.

If there was one thing Lucifer Morningstar was, it was stubborn.

Lucifer drained half the contents of his new bottle before he once again returned his head to resting on his palm. Despite his best efforts to drown the image away, Lucifer’s mind’s eye was once again stuck on that moment.

  He had turned when he’d heard her call his name and he’d been filled with _such_ relief. There she stood, unhurt and okay.

His relief had turned sour when he noticed the shock on her face. The way she stumbled backward, lower lip beginning to lightly tremble.

 _“It’s true,”_ She’d breathed. _“It’s all true_.”

It was only then that Lucifer had noticed the familiar burning behind his eyes. Only then had he noticed the tight ache that came from his         other face, from skin burnt and damaged beyond repair. In that moment he’d known. He’d known it was all over. And yet…

And yet, he’d still hoped. In his heart – cold and black as it was – Lucifer had still hoped she wouldn’t run. That she would be the first mortal ever to be unaffected by the horror of his true face. Maybe even see past the burnt visage to the man she’d befriended – _and professed to love_ , Lucifer’s mind supplied treacherously.

Of course, it had been nothing more than a false hope.  

All the more painful when it had been crushed.

He had taken a step toward her, tentative with his hands raised in the universal sign meaning no-harm.

 _“Detective,”_ He’d said, even as he let his devil face fade. He was certain he was once more back to his normal devilishly good looking self but she’d still flinched back when he made to take another step toward her.

 _“Stay back!”_ She’d told him. Her voice was trembling and her eyes… Oh her eyes had been filled with such fear. Her crystal blue eyes – the eyes Lucifer had fallen so in love with – were filled with tears that overflowed to slip silently down her cheek.

Something inside of him had died at seeing them.

  Brought back to the present, Lucifer reeled his arm back and threw the still half full bottle of whiskey in his hand harshly forward with a roar of anger. It sailed the short distance to the shelves at the back of the bar where it struck the other bottles there and the mirror behind that. The whole lot shattered in what could be an almost perfect visual re-enactment of Lucifer’s heart.

The club owner and former Lord of Hell watched the dripping mess dispassionately. His rage was short lived. Most things were these days it seemed. Lucifer found it hard to feel nearly anything past the awful feeling of emptiness stuck in his chest. Pushing himself away from the bar, Lucifer was disappointed that he wasn’t even swaying on his feet. He turned toward the elevator. There was a rather large stash of opiates in his penthouse that would surely offer some release. Especially once he paired them with the stimulants he’d had delivered that morning.

Chloe had asked him to give her time and Lucifer had promised.

He’d told her that he would wait until she was ready. Privately, Lucifer wondered if this wouldn’t ultimately be the promise that he died trying to uphold.

 

 

Four months past.

Every passing moment branded itself across Lucifer’s skin like a hot iron. With every rise and fall of his chest, and every pump of his broken heart, Lucifer felt his loss deepen. He’d tried briefly speaking with Linda but her assurance that in time he’d feel better did nothing but anger him.

Lucifer was _tired_ of waiting.

Truthfully, he was tired of most things by now.

After four months, there wasn’t much left of his penthouse. Or, for that matter, Lux. The anger he felt, however fleeting and brief, forced him to action. As a result, he had very little furniture left. Most of his windows were broken. Both of his pianos became casualties after he failed to produce even a sorrowful melody from them. Music, after all, required feeling. And that was something Lucifer found himself, for the most part, completely lacking.

He’d tried filling the emptiness inside of him with alcohol and when that didn’t work he’d moved onto illicit drugs. The drugs at least offered him a temporary relief but with his metabolism it was always a fleeting release. The emptiness seemed to settle on him heavier afterward, each and every time.

It was during one of these bouts of fleeting relief that he realised the truth.

He’d been right all along. The Detective _really_ _had_ been made for him. But not so they could fall in love and have a fairy tale ending. No. While Lucifer was always meant to fall in love with her, he was never meant to _have_ her. She was just another punishment. His Father’s way of punishing him for leaving Hell. And Lucifer? He had to laugh. Because after all his years of punishing the guilty, for all his supposed expertise in the matter, he’d never in his wildest dreams have come up with something this unbelievably _cruel_.

He laughed and laughed until he was screaming. Tears leaking away from his wild eyes as he stripped his throat bloody. The raw sounds that escaped him were ones not heard for millennia, not since the original fall. It was a sound Lucifer had always associated with skin melting, of atmospheric pressure breaking bones. But now, now he associated it with a heart _shattering_.

After the emotion had left him, laying exhausted on the floor of his entirely ruined penthouse, Lucifer stared at the ceiling. He stared at the lights above him and wondered idly how much of him would be left should the Detective ever turn up.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to let me know what you thought! I crave criticism.


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